Shattered
by stayathomemum
Summary: A post-TAN story. Chapters alternate between Angela's and Tony's POV. Chapter 5 can be found in the M section.
1. Shattered

_Author's Note: Anybody else think that Angela let Tony off too easily after "The All Nighter" (aka, the night he stupidly slept with Kathleen)? Angela was so gracious and understanding—too much so, in my opinion. By the time Season 7 rolled around, Tony and Angela were "perfectly fine" with this "whole dating others business". Blech. Here is my take on how an evening might have gone during that horrid summer when Tony cheated on Angela. Just a short one-shot. Angela's POV. _

_And a special thanks goes to MissBowerMicelli for proofing, encouraging, and suggesting a couple of great lines! We are all united in our trauma over TAN._

**_One Saturday Evening in July 1990_**

Come on zipper, don't get stuck now. Please, zip all the way up, I silently beg as I suck in my breath and pull as hard as I can on the tiny zipper at my back. I hear a thread pop and my bra strap gets in the way. Damn. This dress . . . this dress is a killer. I don't usually buy dresses like this one, but I desperately needed some retail therapy at Bloomingdale's and there it was, beckoning to me from a window display mannequin. From one dummy to another, I figured for who could resist its shine, its elegance, its sheer exquisiteness? As for the sticker price, a real shocker but who cares? I don't care. I don't care about much these days anymore.

It's over. It never began and now it's over. I feel bereft, cheated, discarded. He's with_ her_ now. The thought of those two sharing a bed fills me with so much revulsion and horror that I cannot let my mind go there. But does my mind listen to me? No, of course not. I'm repeatedly tormented by images of Tony making love-no, not making love-screwing Kathleen. Why her? Why now? In the three emergency sessions I had with Dr. Bellows, she listened to me cry on her couch while tears and snot poured down my face. With exquisite compassion; she handed me a box of tissues and listened to me as I sobbed uncontrollably about Tony's betrayal. Even she seemed perplexed by the whole Kathleen calamity. Like me, Dr. Bellows thought that Tony and I were moving towards something permanent after our trip to Jamaica. He only needed time. And I'd given him the time and space he'd requested and waited patiently, too patiently. Damn! I will not cry again. It took me twenty minutes to get this makeup right; I will not let Tony Micelli ruin it. Not again. I've had to switch to waterproof mascara because of him. It's not just for poolside anymore; it's the ideal makeup for a woman scorned.

I check myself out in the mirror and deftly wipe my tears with a tissue, salvaging my eye-makeup as best I can. As for the dress, it's got to fit. I feel powerful in it—powerful and sexy and very, very hot. And I'm going to wear it. I donated a closetful of shoulder pads, floral prints and drab beige separates to Goodwill. Wallflower Angela is a girl of the past. I struggle with the zipper but it resists my tug; the bra strap prevents me from closing the dress. Quite the dilemma I've got now. Wear another dress, a dreary dress or keep this stunner but go braless. Throwing caution to the wind, I go with the latter option and unhook the bra, angrily flinging it to the floor. The dress zips up perfectly now; it's tight enough to hold everything in and up. This dress has magical lifting powers—who needs a bra now? I twirl in the mirror and have to concede that I look absolutely amazing. I've grown my hair out somewhat and have gone with a darker, golden hue of blonde. It's warmer and suits my complexion better. It falls past my shoulders, straight and thick but it's a warm night so I twist it up into a haphazard chignon with tendrils of hair escaping the sides. Long dangly earrings complete my look. As for the dress, it's black, tight, and short . . . and showcases my long legs to perfection. Perfect for tonight.

From my room upstairs, I hear the doorbell ring and Tony hurrying to answer the door. Tony has his own date tonight, with _whatsherface_. I've developed such an aversion to the name 'Kathleen' that if I ever meet some poor innocuous woman on the street with that same name, I'm liable to kick her in the shin. She'd better not show up here again; she has a nasty habit of wanting to pick up Tony at my house. What makes her think she's welcome here anyway? What makes Tony think it's appropriate to bring her into my house? When I caught them kissing on the couch, I literally thought I was going to throw up. But I'm a nice person; I can't very well kick out my best friend when he's entertaining his concubine, now can I? I wish I could have kicked them both out on their asses but social norms and mores must dominate such hellish circumstances so that nobody feels uncomfortable. Well, so that nobody _openly_ feels uncomfortable. Still, if that little bitch shows up at my house tonight, I'm going to . . .

"Angela!" Tony is calling me from downstairs. "Peter is here. Are you almost ready?"

Rather than yell down the stairs, I leisurely walk to the landing, peering downstairs to make sure that the blonde nitwit isn't there. Nope, coast is clear. So, I take my time and throw a little sauce into my walk—I saunter down gracefully.

"Hello Peter", I say. "How are you this evening?" The fake smile on my face must appear genuine in this charade that we're playing. While fond of Peter, I have no real interest in him. He just happened to be at the right place, at the right time when the bottom fell out of my world. I was a drowning woman and he was a well-placed set of water wings.

"Wow!" Peter lets out a low wolf whistle. "Angela, you look amazing! That's some dress!"

"Oh this old thing?" I say. He urges me to twirl around for him so I oblige, but it's Tony's expression that catches me off guard. He's staring at me, for lack of a better word, hungrily. His eyes are dark and sombre as they slowly linger over me, pausing at my cleavage, ass and legs. His mouth is drawn into a tight line and his fists are clenched. I do one more demi-twirl for his benefit and lock my eyes with his hungry ones.

"Tony?" I ask, my voice as light as air. It catches him off guard. He looks up at me somewhat confused as though he didn't expect me to speak.

"Could you please grab my overnight bag? It's in the hallway upstairs." My words have an unsettling effect on him. He draws a deep breath and I watch fascinated as his complexion goes from provoked pink to perturbed pale.

"Overnight bag?" he squeaks, sounding horrified.

"Yes, Tony. The burgundy one. It's beside my bedroom. Could you bring it down, please?" I turn away from Tony and give my full attention to Peter. He is my date, after all.

"Hi, you all ready for tonight?" I ask Peter seductively in full earshot of Tony. This will be our first night together, officially. Although, we did have unplanned sex once before when I was crying uncontrollably. One good thing about Peter, is that he loves to comfort me and appears to worship the ground I walk on. I couldn't have found a better ego-booster had I gone searching. But still, he's a set of water wings and I'm still drowning. And while the sex was pretty good, physically speaking, that's all it was. My emotions are not tied into it one bit. It was a much needed release from my tears. Nothing like a good orgasm to chase away the doldrums. As far as water wings go, that's fine but I've been cheated out of the body/soul connection that I sought with Tony. For now, pity sex, recreational sex, comfort sex, will have to do. And Peter's okay for that, I suppose. Not that I ever wanted to sleep with anybody but Tony. I'm still in love with him, dammit. I'm smiling at Peter but a lump suddenly fills my throat and I have to swallow back a cry from deep within my heart. Stifling all of this grief and pain isn't healthy, Dr. Bellows keeps reminding me. She thinks I'm making a big mistake in sleeping with Peter this weekend. She says I shouldn't ignore my heart. I told her that if Tony can do it, then I'm sick to death of living like a nun. She asked me if I was having "revenge sex" and the thought frightened me. That it could come down to this between Tony and me? After years of a warm, loving, nurturing friendship, his betrayal has me seeking "revenge sex"? I emphatically told Dr. Bellows that I enjoyed Peter's company and that he's an attractive, successful man. Sex is a bonus, I explained to her. She didn't believe me but I refuse to accept what she's suggesting!

"Angela!" Tony calls me from upstairs, interrupting my thoughts. He sounds annoyed.

"What is it?" I answer back as airily as possible.

"Can you come up here please? I need your help with something." His voice is sand in my wounds.

"Angela, I'm just going to wait for you in the car", Peter announces suddenly. "I have to make some calls from my car phone. Don't be too long." He kisses me on the mouth but instead of responding to him, I politely pull away and head up the stairs to see what Tony could possibly need help with. It's a small overnight bag, weighing ten pounds at most.

Tony is waiting in front of my bedroom door, standing beside my overnight bag. His arms are crossed and his face is drawn into an angry scowl.

"What is it, Tony?" I'm genuinely perplexed. "Bag too heavy for you?"

"Very funny, Angela. Nooo, the bag isn't too heavy!" he responds angrily.

"Well what? What's the matter? Peter is waiting for me in the car. We have reservations." I want to get the hell out of here, away from him.

"I have some reservations of my own, Angela!" he shouts at me. "You're goin' somewhere overnight with this bozo? So soon? Don't you think you're movin' a little too fast?" Tony's going into overprotective mode like he does with Samantha. I blink in surprise and shake my head at him.

"Soon? Soon Tony? Really? I've been dating Peter for six weeks now. How is that soon? And it's not like we haven't already . . ." I trial off to let him understand my unspoken meaning.

Tony's eyebrows shoot up in surprise and he looks at me as though completely shocked. "You mean to tell me that you and Peter, that you and Peter, that you . . . you . . ." he can't finish his sentence so I complete it for him.

"Had sex? Yes, we had sex. Not that it's any of your business, Tony. I'm certainly not going to ask you a thing about your sex life because I really don't want to know. Really not. Can I have my bag please?"

"No, Angela. I don't want to give you your bag. I think you're makin' a mistake." Tony as father figure can be the most frustratingly stubborn person on the planet. I take a deep breath and grab for my bag, pushing past its surly bodyguard. Tony surprises me by tugging at the bag, hard. I lose my grip and my balance; Tony catches me before I face plant at his feet. But I don't want his help and pull away from him, almost violently. His touch is too intimate, too searing and I would succumb to him in a millisecond if I allowed myself.

"What are you doing?" I hiss at him. Now I'm angry. "You have no right to try and prevent me from leaving with Peter!" I yell. "Of all the people in the world, **_you _**have the **_least _**right. Not when you're going to be with Kathleen tonight!" I immediately regret my words because I've uttered them in anger and hurt. And I don't want to give him the satisfaction.

"Angela, you can't go." He states as though he had any say in the matter. I glare at him.

"Tony, I don't know what you're trying to pull but I'm getting angry here. Let go of my damned bag", I'm breathing heavily now and desperately trying to keep my voice from rising into hysteria.

"Angela, I'm just lookin' out for you", he has the audacity to reply. That's it, he's gone too far. I can hear 'the shrill' come out of me before it can be controlled.

"You're looking out for me, Tony?! Of all the hypocritical things to say, we have a winner. Who the hell do you think you are, Tony Micelli? Who do you think you are to tell me what to do? You, the Italian, champion of families...What was it you once told me? Oh yes, 'families stick together'. Well you messed that up, Tony. And I'm going to do whatever the hell I please. And if _doing _Peter pleases me, then that's what I'll be doing tonight." Fury and hurt are driving me now. I hurl my bag out of his fists and run down the stairs with it as fast as my high heels allow me.

"Wait, Angela wait", he cries out to me. I ignore him. He has no right, not after what he's done to our family. Not after the way he's broken my heart. I hate him! I love him! I want to tear off his clothes and have him right here, right now, on the staircase but I also want to punch his face in. Well, he could never accuse me of indifference.

He's running down the stairs behind me and catches my arm as I'm about to escape out the front door.

"Let go of me", I say. He's not playing fair—he has no right to touch me.

"Turn around Angela", his voice is soft and firm and begs to be obeyed. I hesitantly turn around and face him. His eyes are sad, the anger is gone from his face. The livid father figure has morphed into a lost little boy. His warm brown eyes speak volumes but I can't let myself fall into them right now. He's with Kathleen. My heart is hammering so hard in my chest that I fear he can see it lurch through my tight, braless dress. I can't help myself-his eyes are drawing me in. I touch my hand to his face and look into his tear-filled eyes through my own tears.

"Good-night Tony. I'll see you tomorrow morning." I can't seem to let go of his face and feel one hot tear fall onto my index finger, closest to his eye. I'm dying inside and he's the one killing me. So I stand up straighter and say, "Have a nice date with Kathleen."

He looks ashamed of himself now but he lets me go. There's nothing he can say to me. Neither of us has won this stalemate-both caught in our liaisons-ridiculous as they are.


	2. Alone

_Author's Note: As requested, here is a continuation, this time from Tony's POV. Begins where Part 1 left off . . . A huge thank you to MsBowerMicelli for helping me with this piece. She and I had a lot of fun generating ideas together and messaging late into the night, creating dialogue. She came up with quite a few of Tony's thoughts and words. It was harder for me to get into his head but she really captured his voice. _

I can still feel the imprint of her hand on my cheek, ghost-like and intangible, just like she's become to me now. I touch my hand to my hot cheek and wipe away the wetness there; I know she felt that tear. But she left anyway. Dammit, why couldn't I stop her? She came down the stairs, leading with those incredible legs of hers—that's not her! What was she doing? Dressed to kill? In the six years I've known Angela Bower, I have never seen her dressed so seductively, so scantily, so . . . so sexy. The sight of her in that dress will forever be burned into my retinas.

I didn't want her to go! Couldn't she see how he stared at her-like a predator getting ready to devour his prey? I could practically see the drool dripping from his face! She's too naïve and trusting. And why the hell did she need me to get her little bag? That thing was tiny; she could have carried it herself. _Angela, were you trying to torment me?_ Part of me thought that maybe she didn't really want to go and needed a good excuse. I gave her one, holding her bag away from her. But she grabbed for it and fell against me, chest heaving, cheeks flushed and angry. Then she let me have it.

"Who do you think you are, Tony Micelli?" she asked me. She accused me of messing up our family, of being a hypocrite. She was livid. I felt sick. Is that how she sees me now? And then she twisted the knife saying she'd be 'doing' Peter tonight. That made me crazy! But I couldn't stop her; she was determined to go and make a huge mistake.

They drove away in his fancy Corvette. Overnight. She's spending the night with him. She's going to sleep with him tonight. It won't be their first time. They already had sex- now that's a sick punch to the gut! With that guy? Did I push her into his arms? When she left with him _that day_, his arm was around her and she ignored me calling her name. I never meant to hurt her. The last person I ever wanted to hurt is Angela. I don't know what happened with Kathleen-one minute we were looking at our Art History slides and the next, we were a tangled mess of naked limbs rolling around on the bed in that sleazy motel! That's what happened with me and Kathleen- there wasn't much said- it was all art; erotic art nothing more than that. Well that and a depressed libido, 'cause Angela's held it for so long and done nothing with it. No you imbecile! **_I'm_** the one that didn't want it, didn't want her.

That night in Jamaica, just around midnight...I could've discreetly carried her off, with nobody knowing...

but instead suffocated her with words, my insecurities. Instead of making love with her on satin sheets. But Brooklyn boys don't deserve satin, or the brown eyed blond wrapped within them. Yet she understood it all, and dumbly and numbly, I still don't.

That's why I'm sittin' here, alone.

XXXXXX

It's almost lunch time and she's not back. Where the hell are you, Angela? I'm still alone. The kids won't be home for weeks; Sam at her resort in New Mexico and Jonathan on a camping adventure with his father. Those kids couldn't get away from this house fast enough for the summer. The tension between Angela and me and was getting to them and they ditched us.

I was gonna spend the night at Kathleen's but I pissed her off by talking about Angela. Best to keep some distance from her now. Besides, I cannot stop thinking about Angela. God, waiting for her is torture! I keep picturing her and Peter doing the deed. Is she on top? No, don't go there! She should be in my bed, not his. Wait . . . Kathleen, right. I have a nagging, sick feeling that she's only sleeping with him because I'm with Kathleen. What the hell am I doing with Kathleen anyway? How did an erotic art coupling turn into a relationship?

Finally at about three o'clock, Angela saunters in.

"Bye Peter", she calls out the front door, her back to me. She waves enthusiastically at the departing Corvette and turns around to head upstairs, her blonde ponytail bobbing with each step.

"Hi Angela", I call to her. She's halfway up the stairs before she realizes I was here all along, silently watching her. She's so stunning today dressed simply in jeans and a pink button down. I'll take her looking like that over what she was wearing last night any day.

"Hello Tony", she replies, her voice guarded. She pauses to make brief eye contact before continuing up the stairs with her small overnight bag.

"Here, let me help you with that", I say and quickly catch up to her on the staircase. I can't help it—I need to smooth things over with her. Before she can protest, I take the bag out of her hands and carry it into her bedroom, leading the way. She follows me but I can sense that she's not too happy with me.

"Tony, I can handle my bag, thank you", she tells me. Her tone is cold and I desperately need to restore equilibrium. So I do what I do best—try and take care of her.

"It's not a problem, Angela. Just give me your dirty laundry …", I begin to unzip the bag for her, as I often do after her business trips, sorting the laundry and putting her things away. It's simply part of my job.

"I can manage", she replies sounding a bit exasperated. I ignore her, figuring that I know better and open the bag all the way. I wish I'd listened to her. First thing I pull out is lacy lingerie, diaphanous, outrageously sexy and imbibed with a remnant of her perfume. I stare at it in awe and dismay, unable to look away. Images of Angela wearing that garment seduce me, torment me and fill my brain. Powerless to help myself, I finger the soft material and slowly pull it out of the garment bag, accidentally knocking a box of condoms out of her valise.

"Tony!" she yells at me. "Please leave. I can take care of my own things!" She's blushing furiously now, her cheeks red with embarrassment and anger.

"I'm . . . I'm sorry, Angela. I was only trying to help", I sputter back, blushing even more deeply than she is.

"I don't need your help. These are my personal things! You can't just come into my room and start going through my _very_ personal things!" I've done it now—she looks like she could strangle me. I stand up to leave her room but not before almost tripping over a discarded bra lying on her bedroom floor.

"What the …?" I wonder, picking up the bra somewhat confused by its appearance under my feet.

"Dammit Tony! I didn't ask for your help. Give me that", she grabs the bra out of my hands and throws it on the bed. I don't belong in here. This is her sanctuary, her feminine space and I'm an intruder.

"Angela, I didn't mean …!" I want to pacify her but I also need to leave her room with our dignities as intact as possible. I've dangerously trespassed into the bear's den and if looks could kill, I'd be dead a thousand times over.

"Just get out!" she cries. I can see her eyes welling up with tears while she's frantically trying to hide the box of condoms that have fallen at the foot of her bed. With her left heel, she clandestinely kicks the box under the bed, out of sight even though she knows that I saw them. I'm assaulted by an image of her putting one on Peter last night and can't help the shudder that creeps through my shoulders.

I don't react fast enough to her imperative and instinctively duck when the pink bunny slipper sails past my head. "Get the hell out of my room!" she repeats. This time, I move quickly and for good measure close the door behind me. I wonder what kind of evening is in store for us now.

XXXX

It's just the two of us for dinner tonight. It's a hot day so instead of turning on the stove, I use the BBQ to grill up some halibut. Paired with a fresh green salad and warm crusty bread, it's a perfect summer supper. I set the outdoor table; there's a cool breeze that's lacking in the house. Actually, if Angela's mood could set the temperature, it would be downright freezing. She's been avoiding me all afternoon.

"Angela, dinner's ready", I call out to her through the kitchen door. No answer. "Angela? I threw a fish on the BBQ for us. We're gonna eat in the backyard", I say more loudly. Silence. I go into the house in search of her. First I check her office but it's empty. She's not upstairs either. I open the front door and note the missing Jag. Where did she go? I can't believe that she left without telling me!

Oh great, now I get to eat alone. I hate eating alone. So much food and I can't possibly finish it all but Mona's not home and I have no idea where the hell Angela went. I can't understand why she's so angry with me—she's the one who went away overnight. All I did was look out for her. That's what best friends do—look out for each other. But right now, I'm wondering if I've slipped from best friend status to mere 'friend' and if in fact I might be slipping even further down the relationship rung. Well this food is being wasted so I decide to call Kathleen. There's another woman I need to smooth things over with.

XXXXX

Okay Angela, this has gone on long enough! It's eleven o'clock; where are you? Are you coming home tonight or will you be 'doing' Peter again? I'm watching a movie with Kathleen but I should send her home now in case Angela returns. As Murphy's Law would have it, the front door opens and Angela returns from wherever the hell she's been all evening while Kathleen's sitting there like she owns the place. The look on Angela's face when she sees Kathleen sitting on the couch makes me feel sick. It's a kid who just had her candy stolen, balloon popped and dog run over by a car. Sucker punched.

"Uh, Angela. Where have you been? I had dinner waiting for you", I tell her. She doesn't answer me; she seems slightly disoriented and hesitates.

"Angela? Are you alright?" I can't help but ask her. Kathleen's eyes bore into the back of my head as I walk over to Angela. She was furious that I talked about Angela again tonight. Can't seem to help myself but whenever I mention Angela to Kathleen, her eyes narrow, her nose wrinkles in disgust and she begins sighing dramatically. So, I guess Angela and Kathleen are off-limit topics, at least to each other.

"I'm fine", she states while looking anything but fine. "I'm sorry I didn't call about dinner but I needed some . . . space. I went to the office for a bit", she informs me.

"But it's Sunday!" I tell her, as if she didn't already know this.

She doesn't answer me but instead heads up to her room. This time I know better than to follow her.

Gotta get rid of Kathleen so I send her home, complaining. That's two evenings in a row that end with Kathleen pissed off at me about Angela. Don't much care at this point; I need to see if Angela is alright. The second the front door closes behind my irate girlfriend, I bound up the stairs, taking two at a time.

"Angela", I knock at her bedroom door. She opens it almost immediately. Oh wow, she's, wow! She's got ratty old sleep shorts with the matching Snoopy T-shirt and nothing else. Her tanned skin glows against the worn peach cotton. A cloth scrunchy thing holds her hair on top of her head like a funny fountain . . . it's so damned cute. I take a deep breath and try not to think how soft her skin must feel, how long her legs are . . . oh my god her gaping T-shirt; I can see down the top of it to the swell of her …

"What do you want Tony?" she asks me tiredly. "I'm going to bed now."

My brain is slow; seems that most of my blood has rushed somewhere else. Who would have thought that a grown woman wearing Snoopy could be so damned sexy? I can't stop staring at her but she's waiting, impatient and fatigued.

"Did you, uh, eat? There's leftover halibut but the salad's all gone. I can make you something", I offer.

"I ate already" she says then pauses before adding, "I didn't know you were having Kathleen over tonight."

"I wasn't planning on it, Angela. You didn't show up for dinner and I had all of this extra food. Seemed like a waste and you know I hate eating alone."

She eyes me sadly before simply saying, "Good night Tony." The door is closing; I stick my foot in the small remaining space and prevent her from shutting me out. I've gotta make things right with her!

"But Angela, I made that food for_ us_! You love BBQ halibut; it was for _you_. I wanted to have dinner with _you_ but you just left." It's important that she knows this. And now I know it-Kathleen wasn't my first choice for dinner tonight. Is Kathleen ever my first choice? I feel lost; what the hell am I doing?

She smiles now, a thin wan smile that barely touches her lips. It quickly fades though. "Oh Tony, what is happening to us?" Her eyes are so sad; I just want to kiss her and almost do. But I've damned myself with Kathleen and Angela's off limits to me now.

"I don't know Angela. We . . . we're going through this thing that we need to go through. Dating others and seeing where that goes", I answer as honestly as I can but even I don't believe the crap I'm spewing.

"Well Tony, seems to me that you're having trouble letting me date. That was some stunt you pulled last night when I was trying to leave with Peter. I don't understand …"

I interrupt her, "Angela, I was just lookin' out for you!"

"I don't need looking out for, Tony. I'm a grown woman and quite capable of making my own decisions."

"But Angela, you're not just with Peter because I'm with Kathleen, are you? I mean, that's not a good reason for sleepin' with a guy! It's not like you." There, I've told her what I think. She's got to see reason now. Her face, however, is registering anything but reason.

"Are you seriously asking me that, Tony?!" she yells. "Of all the self-centered, narcissistic things to assume about me, this one takes the cake. Yes Tony, I'm sleeping with my boyfriend _because of you_!" Her voice is dripping with sarcasm before anger takes over again, "The ego . . . the ego on you", she presses her finger into my chest while pushing me out into the hallway.

"No, not ego Angela. Just logical because . . . because", I sputter stupidly.

"Because nothing, Tony!" she replies. "Did it ever occur to you that I might actually like Peter? That I enjoy sex? Because I do!" Her eyes narrow angrily now and I'm worried that she might only be warming up. How am I supposed to answer her comment about enjoying sex? She enjoys sex? Oh god, the blood is flowing away from my brain again. I can't think; I can't speak; I can only picture her enjoying sex and how much pleasure I could be givin' her. Damn that Snoopy shirt and those shorts-do they have to be so short? Why am I having such a problem with this? She walks backwards into her room, leaving me speechless in the hallway. I can't stop staring at her legs; their long fluid movements, the shapely calves and thighs . . . is she talking to me? What's wrong with me? I can't focus on her words-my Id's taken over. I want her here, now. The realization nearly splinters through me as I sputter the most bittersweet of all ironies . . .

"What do you want from me Tony?" she exclaims rather loudly, waking me from my lust-induced trance.

"You . . . I want you." Did I just say that out loud? Oh crap. She stares at me, eyebrows raised in surprise and lips slightly parted to a tantalizing O shape. I slowly move towards her, completely unable to resist her magnetic pull and place my hands roughly on her shoulders. In admission of my honesty, her expression softens and she brings her face right up to mine. I can feel her breath on my mouth; her lips are still parted and ever so close. Resistance is futile. Our lips join over and over again, in solicited passion and I feel her moan against my mouth just like she did in Jamaica. And as on that night, abruptly, our moment of reckless abandon ends in a dull crash . . . a whimper. This time, it's her doing, not mine.

She steps back and states almost callously, "I can't be the other woman, Tony...I have to be the one and only."

And I know she's right. That's what she deserves. I nod at her and lick my lips, still tasting her cherry chapstick. Who am I kiddin'? I don't deserve her. I'm just a Brooklyn boy who fell for an Uptown girl. I sigh deeply, sadly and go to bed alone.


	3. Tears

**Chapter 3**

_Angela's POV again. This chapter is ALTERNATE UNIVERSE folks. Because you asked me for it. ;)_

I can't sleep. Tony told me he wants me. He kissed me, or maybe I kissed him. Our lips crashed together, simultaneously, powerfully. I've never been kissed like that before and yes, I could definitely feel his desire, mostly pressing against my thigh but also in the urgent way he held me so tightly, kissed me so deeply. That kiss was frenzied and feverish-it left all of our previous kisses in the dust. How can he want me so badly and still be with Kathleen? I told him . . . I told him that I needed to be the one and only. And he just stared at me with sad puppy dog eyes. _What Tony? You can't dump your little floozy?_ She's barely a relationship—you screwed her and now you're screwed?

After pulling his all-nighter and confessing to me in the kitchen, guilt emanating from his entire being . . . I tried to give him an out. I thought he was looking for an out. But he didn't take it. Oooh, I could strangle him. I flip over on the bed and angrily punch my pillow, imagining Tony's face instead. He can't do this to me anymore. Want me, reject me, kiss me, and then tell me he has to figure himself out! What kind of man says that he's thinking about marriage, says he sees me in his future and then puts me on hold? I'm not a damned telephone receiver. I'm sick of being "on hold" for Tony. Yet, what else am I supposed to do? It's him I want. It's always been him. When I was with Peter last night, I closed my eyes and pretended he was Tony. Couldn't fool myself-Peter is too thin and his scent is all wrong. I don't want Peter. I want Tony.

I turn my pillow to the cool side. The house is warm but the air conditioning isn't working properly. I'm so uncomfortable. Haven't worn these old summer PJ's in years but nothing else I own is as loose and cool on a hot night. If I'd known of their provocative effect on Tony, I would have worn those years ago. Years. It's been years. Oh god, years? How many of my child-bearing years have I wasted simply pining away for a man who ended up putting me "on hold"? And for what? His pride? His ego? His need to be a financial success before he can pursue me? And while I was safely set aside, he didn't put his own needs 'on hold'. What's good for the goose isn't good for the gander?

I'm torn. I don't want to wait anymore. Part of me simply wants to move on and put this painful chapter behind me. I don't want Kathleen's sloppy seconds. I gave him a chance tonight and he was too dense to see it. Don't I deserve better than that? Tears begin coursing down my face again. I'm so sick of my own tears; I've been drowning in them lately. I blow my nose and try to stifle the sobs that rack through my body. Since when do I cry so often? I can't recall ever crying so much; not when Michael left me and not when I was fired. The only time I ever cried so much was when Daddy died. So this is grief? Yes, it's real, gritty grief. Grief of hope. I've lost hope. Will he end up marrying Kathleen and having children with her? If he does, I won't be able to stand it. It'll be the death of me.

The thought of Tony leaving me for Kathleen makes me nauseated. I take a deep breath and head into the bathroom for a glass of cold water, then splash some on my face. A miserable looking woman stares back at me in the mirror. She looks like she could use some comfort, some love. Years. I can't get over the fact that I've been in love with Tony for years. And for what? To be humiliated and left, then receive confusing mixed messages. He wants confused? I'll give him confused.

I'm angry. Damn him. The cold water has woken me out of my self-pity. I look at the weepy woman in the mirror and reassure her, "You deserve better", I tell her. "You're sexy. You're worth having. And if he wants you, then he'd better be ready to do something about it. You're not going to wait any longer. You want answers? Then go get them! Stop snivelling and do what you need to do!"

I turn on my heel and exit the bathroom then the bedroom. I'm standing in the hallway now. Where is he? The light is on under his bedroom door . . . oh, so he's still awake. Good. I knock at his door, loudly. "Come in?" he asks.

I storm in feeling strong, determined and ready. This has been years in coming. Years. Damn, I wasted most of my thirties waiting around. I wanted more children but had to wait in limbo for years and now am pushing forty. The thought of those lost fertile years infuriates me even more.

Tony looks at me in alarm. I must be quite the sight; my hair is a tangled uncombed mess and I accidentally splashed too much water on myself. Plus, I'm breathing hard and am certain that he can sense my rage.

"Angela? What is it? Are you alright?" Tony's worried tone calms me down a bit. He's not looking for a fight. Deep breath . . . deep breath, just breathe.

Without thinking, I realize that the words 'I'm fine' are on the tip of my tongue. They always are, even when I'm not. Why do I say that? Honesty. Tony and I need a dose of truth.

"No Tony. I'm not alright", I state while walking towards his bed. He sits up and his book falls to the floor.

"What . . . what's wrong Angela?"

"We're what's wrong. We're all wrong! What the hell are we doing, Tony? What are you doing?" The question has been begging to be asked for years.

"What am I doing?" Tony has the panic stricken look of a pedestrian dodging a runaway truck. "Angela, I'm sorry. I'm sorry I kissed you . . . I didn't mean to upset you." There he goes misinterpreting my words again.

"Well I'm not. I'm not sorry we kissed. What I'm sorry about is that you didn't hear me." I fix my eyes on his to make sure he's hearing me.

"Didn't hear you?" he looks confused now.

"You said you wanted me and I replied that I needed to be the one and only. Did you hear me say that?"

Tony nods uncertainly. He seems almost fearful now.

"Angela, what are you sayin'? You . . . you want me to break up with Kathleen?"

"Only if what you told me before is true Tony. Do you want me?" I stand before him primed for rejection. But I need to know. This has got to come to a head now because the game we're playing is gradually killing me a tiny bit every day. I need an answer. If he wants to stay with Kathleen, better to know it now.

"Uh . . . uh, Angela . . . it's not that simple. I do. But . . . but . . ." he sputters.

So that's it. He's a coward. He's indecisive. He doesn't know what the hell he wants. Not what I was hoping for but perhaps what I feared and expected from him. He can't do it. He can't commit to me. There's no point in waiting any longer. It's time to put an end to my pining away and desperate longing.

"Well then", I whisper while choking down a sob, "I hope that you and Kathleen will be very happy together. You don't know what you want, Tony. But it won't be me."

I can't cry in front of him but the agony of rejection possesses of me and I can't help it. Before I can make my escape, my shoulders shake and the tears are back. I'm sobbing my heart out in Tony's bedroom and I feel like an idiot. I should have stayed in my own room. What was I thinking of when I forced this confrontation? Confrontations don't work. Ultimatums don't work. Waiting around forever doesn't work either. Nothing does. I'm pathetic—a loser. A loser in a Snoopy sleep shirt with my anguish exploding all over the place. I'm a piñata of sorrow and tears—a pitiful, wretched creature. I'm crying a river of tears on his blue carpet.

Tony is beside me almost instantly. "Angela?" He's looks lost as he hands me a fistful of tissues. I don't push him away when he puts his arm around me and leads me to the edge of the bed to sit down. Like a small child, I follow him. Ironically, I need comfort from the source of my heartbreak.

_Stay tuned for the continuation from Tony's POV! _


	4. Honesty

**Chapter 4**

Angela's bawling her eyes out and it's all my fault. She burst into tears and can't stop—she's practically hyperventilating now. I shove a bunch of tissues at her and lead her to the bed to sit down. Her deep sobs make her entire body spasm so I hold her more tightly against me and whisper words of comfort to soothe her but she's too far gone in her tears to hear me. There's nothing I can do except feel like the louse that I am. I did this to her; she's falling apart at the seams and it's all on me. Guilt roils in my guts and I wanna be sick.

"Angela? Angela, I'm so sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry", I repeat the same words over again because I can't think of anything else to tell her. I am sorry and ashamed. I want to kick myself.

She looks up from her pile of soggy tissues and fixes me with bloodshot eyes. The hurt in them is raw and she looks so vulnerable, like a lost little girl.

"Angela? I . . . I . . . I …" I begin speaking but the quiet pride on her face shuts me up. She's almost regal in her pain.

"I'm a fool", she utters quietly. She's looking at the floor now, embarrassed.

"No Angela. You're not. There's nothin' wrong with crying. I'm sorry I hurt you. I didn't realize …"

"You didn't realize?" she asks me, her voice bitter and choked up.

I have no answer. No matter how much I've tried to rationalize it, I cheated on her—on us. I knew she loved me but I justified my adulterous actions by claiming that we didn't have a binding commitment. As if six years of living together, raising each other's kids, being best friends, life partners, spending all of our time together, dating, kissing, and talking about the future and marriage wasn't a commitment. Who was I kidding? It was fear, pure and simple. I f**** up big time.

All this is going through my head but I still haven't answered her. She looks at me dejectedly and disentangles herself from my tight grip.

"Tony, forget this. I shouldn't have come", she tells me barely above a whisper. She avoids looking at me and makes a dash for the door.

"Angela, wait!" I call out to her. "You can't leave!" Before she can escape, I grab her around the waist and hold her.

"Let go of me!" she cries. I reluctantly release my hold. She's in agony and I've just realized what a complete ass I've been. If I don't fix this now, our entire relationship might end up in the toilet. I can't lose her. I love her_. I . . . love . . . her_. I do. I really, really do. What have I done?

"Angela please stay. We need to talk about this. I can't lose you. Please."

"Tony don't", she sobs. She fights against me when I try to hug her and explodes in a torrent of rage, repeatedly pummelling my chest with her palms. "I hate you, I hate you, I hate you", she chants over and over again. Her hot tears are spilling onto my bare shoulders, cutting through me like lava.

"Well I_ love_ you!" I shout at her. She stops and looks up at me stunned. "I love you Angela", I repeat to her. "I love you and I don't want to lose you. Please. I was wrong. Hit me, even hate me, but don't walk away... walkin' away is the worst thing I could've ever done!"

Angela goes completely still and quiet. Her sobbing has calmed down and she's merely sniffling now, staring at me through her tears. Staring at me as though I've grown a second head. "What did you say?" she asks me incredulously.

"I said I love you." There, it's out. It needed to come out. It's true. More true than I ever realized.

"You do?" She doesn't believe me.

"Yes. A million times yes. Angela, I hurt you and I'm sorry for that. I never should have gotten involved with Kathleen. I'm not sure why I did-maybe I was scared of 'us'. But it was wrong . . . especially after what we talked about in Jamaica. I never should have . . . I've been an idiot Angela. Please tell me it's not too late for us!" I want to beg, plead, get down on my knees and grovel.

"I don't know, Tony. I just don't know anymore. You hurt me so much. I never wanted to date other people—I only said that to save face. Because I was dying inside. Tony, that day when you came back from the motel, I felt like dying. How could you not have known that I loved you?"

"Because I tried to convince myself that we loved each other only as friends, Angela. I didn't know if I could offer you anything. I was scared to lose you." Tears are prickling behind my eyes and I'm choking up. I've wronged her so badly.

"Tony, sleeping with Kathleen put us at risk. More than any attempt at romance ever could have. I trusted you with my heart and you broke it", she cries. She's biting her lip trying not to cry again but the tears are spilling fast. My tears join hers and they mingle when they splash onto my arms. I hastily wipe my face and grab some damp tissues out of her fist.

"I know Angela. I know that now. But I wasn't thinkin' that night at the motel. It just sorta happened! And then I got scared; scared of 'where we were going' and I didn't know how to just dump her. But I'm gonna end it with her now. Absolutely . . . she has no place in my life. She was a mistake. It was erotic art that did it", I say sheepishly.

"Erotic art? Tony . . .", Angela lets out a little snort of derision and rolls her red-rimmed eyes. "Tony, if all I needed was an erotic image to seduce you, I would have gotten you a _Playboy_ magazine."

"No, Angela. I wouldn't want that trash. _You_ seduce me. You always have, every day for six years. Resisting that desire is the hardest thing I've ever done", I say. I want to explain that it was her dark eyes, her smile, her awkwardness and sweet naïveté that captured my heart and made me fall in love with her. But I'm overwrought by the moment and the spark of hope that suddenly appears in her eyes.

"Why did you resist me so much? That night in Jamaica? Why Tony?"

"I don't know! I was scared that we'd slide into something we couldn't handle. I wanted to marry you but wasn't good enough for you yet! But I did want you, Angela. I wanted you so badly that night", I finally admit my true feelings to her.

"Not good enough?" Angela questions me. She seems shocked by my admission.

"Yeah Angela. _Not good enough_. I wanted to have my college degree first, a decent job, something to offer you. But all that waiting-it was wrong. 'Cause I knew you loved me and I pushed you away. I was a coward. A proud, stupid coward."

"Can you swallow that pride, Tony?" she asks before adding, "and that ego you once assured me you don't have?"

I know her question is important—no, pivotal to our entire relationship. It all comes down to this—my stupid egotism and fear. I lead her back to the edge of the bed to sit down because I need to sit down. My legs feel a bit shaky; this marathon of introspection and raw honesty is running me ragged.

"I'll try, Angela", I say softly. Our eyes meet and I'm pulled into their dark fathomless beauty. Throughout the years, we've spoken volumes with only our eyes—the windows into our souls. It's connected us at a level so deep to be almost spiritual and timeless. Yet we avoided using the words that mattered the most. I should have told her I loved her years ago. Years.

"Oh Angela", I sigh. Ironically, when I need words the most, they elude me. A deep exhaustion overtakes me—this confrontation of truth has done me in. She appears to be completely spent as well. I put my arm around her again, knowing that it's alright to do so now. She rewards me with a weak smile and rests her head on my shoulder.

"Are we going to be alright, Angela?" I ask her. Tonight scared me and I'm still trying to regain my equilibrium.

"I think so, Tony. So long as we can be honest with each other and say how we truly feel." She lets out a deep sigh and closes her eyes. Then she startles me by suddenly popping her head up and speaking. "Tony?" she asks.

"Yeah Angela?"

"I realize now why you left; why that night fateful as it was, was so different... I didn't ask you to stay."

"Don't defend me, Angela."

"I'm not. I'm merely seeing a shade of grey", she tells me. Her face is flushed and she looks down before meeting my eyes again. "So I'm going to ask if I can stay tonight." Her jaw is set in a determined line but her eyes are tender. She tentatively takes my hand and says, "Please hold me tonight. I'm so tired and I don't want to go back to my room and overanalyze everything we've just talked about. I only want to be with you."

Her words startle me. Is she talking about sex? Or merely sharing a bed? I look over at her; she's crawling across my bed and I'm distracted by her sleep shorts or rather what's beneath them. The suggestive outline of her behind and her long, golden legs affect me despite my intense fatigue. There's no way I can simply sleep beside her when she looks like that. But she appears oblivious and makes herself comfortable in my bed. I hesitate before crawling in beside her. I don't want her to leave. Not after what we've just been through. We need to stay together and talk some more and definitely cuddle and maybe kiss and . . . it's going to be an interesting night.


	5. Please see M section for Chapter 5

**Please see M section for Chapter 5 of Shattered**


	6. Unshattered

**Chapter 6**

**_Author's note: alright, one final chapter! _**

"A wedding?!" I gape at Tony, momentarily dumbfounded. "You want to . . . marry me?" My breath is hitched in my chest and I don't realize how tightly I'm holding it in until he speaks.

"Yeah Angela. What did you think would come of this? Getting to know each other better? I think we know each other as well as we ever could, _especially after that incredible lovemaking_." Tony's bright smile lights up his face like a megawatt bulb and I finally exhale. _Whoooo_

He's right, of course. What else would we do? Date? We've already been living together for six years and have eaten dinner together almost every single night. We've logged more couple time than most married people. And given our newfound intimacy, there really isn't anywhere else for this relationship to go but to the altar. Tony would never approve of simply shacking up-nor would I with the children to consider.

"I'm sorry, Angela. That wasn't a proper proposal but given the circumstances, uh, will you accept it? Will you marry me?" He looks so earnest and seems to have forgotten that he's stark naked. I want to laugh at the absurdity of it all; here we are in all of our glowing, post-coital bliss and Tony's worried about a 'proper' proposal.

"Of course I'll accept it. Tony, I just want to be with you!" I assure him. We sit up in the crumpled bed sheets and seal it with a kiss.

"So, are we engaged?" he practically giggles the question before grabbing me for another passionate kiss. I kiss him back eagerly until a sour thought invades my happy moment. _Our soon-to-be-exes._ Well, as far as we're concerned, they _are _our exes. We just need to make_ them_ aware of that fact now. I don't relish the task of breaking up with Peter because he is a nice man and he's been kind to me. But in my heart, I've been with Tony for six years. Tony has to dump Kathleen. Now that thought makes me a bit giddy.

"Engaged . . . I like the sound of that", I beam at him.

"Angela", Tony becomes serious for a moment now and looks intently into my eyes. "I'm so glad you told me the truth. I was really dense and _Madonna mi_ . . . do I mean dense! Thank you for giving me a chance after I hurt you so much. I love you Angela. And I'll always remain faithful to you from now on. Can you ever forgive me for breaking your heart?"

I caress his cheek and reassure him. I am confident of his love for me and that he'll never repeat the same mistake. Agony has been a formidable teacher. From now on, I'll always be honest with him and won't sublimate my true feelings. If something needs to be said, than it shall be said. We wasted too many years deluding ourselves—playing a foolish game of _conceal, don't feel._

"I forgive you, Tony. Do you forgive me for . . . for not being honest with you about my feelings? For sending you to that motel? For saying we should date others? I didn't mean any of it. If I'd told you the truth from the start, then none of this would have happened!"

"Angela, there's nothing to forgive."

"Oh Tony" I look down at the bed sheets and over at his nude form, still damp from exertion. "You know we have an unpleasant task before us, right?"

"We do? I can't think of any task that would be unpleasant right now …" Tony begins reaching for me, clearly with sex on the brain.

"Uh Tony? Tomorrow, we need to officially break-up with Peter and Kathleen." Her name still tastes like bitters in my mouth.

"That's tomorrow, Angela. But tonight is tonight", he says with a sly grin. "I can't believe I've got you in my bed! I've got Angela Bower in my bed, naked!" He exclaims enthusiastically while staring at me in pure amazement. "You're beautiful. I remembered but I'd also forgotten, and well touching you is so much more real than merely seeing you coming out of the bath. Your skin is so incredibly soft. What we just did . . . that lovemaking . . . it was the most amazing, wow! All I can say is 'wow' woman. That was beyond anything I've ever . . . wow!"

I giggle at him, suddenly feeling the first prickling of shyness.

"You know Tony, I've never been that daring in bed before. I guess you bring it out in me" I blush, remembering my brash, emboldened behaviour.

"I bring out the wild woman in you? I'm so glad you felt confident enough to do what pleased you . . . to be yourself. I always want it to be like that. No barriers, raw and real. Angela that _was_ truth-the way we made love. You have no idea what you do to me" he whispers before leaning in to kiss my shoulder and pulling me towards him once again.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The next morning brings a heavy dose of reality along with bright sunshine and extreme heat. Tony and I emerge from our marathon love making feast and shared shower to face our next task. I'm feeling spent, consumed but also invigorated by the powerful force of love that exploded between us last night. It's tempting to shut out the rest of the world and remain in our cocoon of newfound physical passion and discovery. We can't seem to get enough of each other, desperately making up for six years of denial. But we cannot put it off any longer; today is the day we break up with our . . . our what? Our exes? Well, they'll know soon enough that they have become such.

"What's your pleasure this morning, Angela?" Tony asks me as I enter the kitchen. He's holding a frying pan but his double meaning isn't lost on me.

"Very cute Tony. While I'd love to indulge in some . . . _beefcake_ . . . I think coffee and juice will be just fine." I walk right up to him where he's standing in his usual spot by the coffee maker.

"Good morning lover", I whisper to him. I am uninhibited-no rules for me, I'm free! The time of restraint and self-monitoring is over. I do what I want to do, which is put my arms around him and kiss him. He puts down the pan and holds me tightly against him, kissing me back eagerly.

"Boy am I ever glad the kids are away", he murmurs in my ear. His warm breath tickles my cheek and I feel myself coming undone even though we've exhausted ourselves repeatedly. This new physical dimension to our relationship feels almost alien; I have never known passion like this. Passion fuelled by six years of pent-up love and waiting. I guess the old saying is true—it is worth the wait. Although I could have done without the Kathleen detour. Kathleen.

I gently pull away from his unreserved kisses and look at him. "We have to do it today, you know."

"We can do it today, tonight, tomorrow …"

"Tony! I'm talking about breaking up with Peter and Kathleen!"

"Relax Angela. Kathleen is on her way over before her classes start. I'm going to dump her before I start my day. 'Cause you are my one and only and we've gotta make it official."

"She's coming here, now? Oooh, I'd better hurry up and get to work." I feel panicky now. Just the mere thought of that woman coming into my house feels like nails against the chalkboard of my psyche.

"Do you have to go to work today, Angela? 'Cause I was thinkin' that maybe you and me could spend the day together just the two of us-doing what we do best. Then maybe go out for dinner later, some dancing, and afterwards …" Tony nuzzles my neck and I'm ever so tempted. Play hooky? Oh, why not? Getting together after six years deserves special celebration.

"Wellllll", I drawl. "I guess I could. But I do have to see Peter today before we can celebrate."

"Are you going to be okay?" he asks.

"Yes, but I feel badly for him because he really likes me and he's a good man. I simply don't have any feelings for him. How could I . . . I'm in love with you."

"Then why did you? Why did you sleep with him, Angela?"

"Oh Tony, let's not go there. What was I supposed to do? You had Kathleen, and Peter wanted to move things along. It was either take the next step or break up. If I'd been honest with myself and with him, I would have ended the relationship. But seeing you with Kathleen made that hard, Tony. You were expecting me to date." I don't like admitting this to him. I wish that I'd never started up with Peter; I'm going to have to hurt him now.

"Hey, you're a classy lady and I'm sure that you'll figure out a very civilized way to dump him."

Before I can reply to his cavalier comment, my mother enters through the back door wanting her breakfast. I automatically blush, concerned that she'll read the details of my night with Tony on our faces. I try to look as blank as possible, bored even.

"Good morning Mother", I greet her neutrally.

My mother's mysterious sixth sense swirls about her fiery hair, igniting invisible sparks around her head. Her face registers surprise, then pleasure as a slow grin appears on her like mischief. "Good morning? It sure does seem that way", she smirks. How does she know? How does she always know?

My defense is to feign ignorance. "Oh?"

She says nothing but walks over to the coffee maker. Tony and I have to back away from each other so she can walk between us. Mother silently pours herself a cup of coffee, eyes us and smiles. "I'd say it's a good morning. It feels like . . . the sun has come out after a storm. The oppressive tension is finally gone. The air is light and fresh again and I can finally breathe."

"Oppressive tension?" Tony asks her aghast.

"Yes!" Beneath Mother's joking demeanor is a seriousness that belies her casual remarks. "Do you two have any idea how horrible it's been for the rest of us while you dated others? Why do you think the children escaped? They've never spent the entire summer away from home before! You essentially chased them out of the house with your stupidity."

Mother's chastisement is hard to stomach but I know she's right. Tony and I look at each other, ashamed.

"Look Mona, Angela and I know we were wrong. But we're done bein' stupid. I love her." Tony's in defensive mode but his face lights up when he tells my mother that he loves me.

"Well it's about time", Mother declares, the relief evident in her voice. Her moment of solemnity has evaporated and she appears quite pleased now. "So, you finally came to your senses. I hope you had hot, sweaty fun doing so", she teases. "After six years of pent up sexual frustration, I'm surprised you didn't blow the roof off the house!"

"Mother …" I say warningly but I can't remain serious. Romance and sex have made me giddy and I smile despite myself.

"Looks like …" Mother chirps happily. I look down but grab Tony's hand in mine.

"We're breaking up with our exes today", I confess to her. "It's going to be a bit awkward, um, Kathleen is on her way over right now. You need to leave, Mother."

"Leave? I'm not going anywhere. I wouldn't miss this little show for the world. Finally, the dumping of the extraneous baggage."

"Mona, you can't watch!"

"No, but I can listen. Angela and I will eavesdrop from the living room", she informs us. Tony begins to protest but is interrupted by Kathleen's arrival. She's knocking at the kitchen door. Oh dear, this is awkward. Mother grabs my arm and practically dislocates my shoulder in her eagerness to hide in the living room. I have no choice but to follow, if I want to keep my arm.

"Shhhhh Angela. Now, put your ear close to the door and …." I brush her off but remain quiet. Curiosity is stronger than feelings of propriety. Besides, Tony is my fiancé now . . . and lover.

It's hard to hear anything clearly but I can make out the sound of feet shuffling, a chair being pulled out, a spoon tapping against the edge of a cup and finally Kathleen's raised voice. Tony must have kept his volume low on purpose. He knows that Mother and I are attached to the kitchen door by our ears.

"It's Angela, isn't it?" she cries. "I knew it!" Something bangs and slams and I hear Tony's muffled apologies.

"Married!? You're marrying her?! What the hell, Tony! You proposed to her before breaking up with me? " Kathleen is on the verge of hysteria. Mother stares at me gobsmacked.

"Married?" she asks me. I nod at her and return to my eavesdropping. "Shhhhhh Mother." I'm so intent on hearing Tony's response that I'm caught off guard when Kathleen tears through the door, hitting Mother and me with it. We both fall to the floor; Kathleen is standing above us outraged.

"You . . . you . . . you bitch!" Kathleen is in shock. She lunges for me but Tony lifts her up into the air. Her feet and arms flail uselessly. "I can't believe you cheated on me with her", she screams at him.

I muster as much dignity as I can and stand up, then turn around to help Mother. She appears a little too amused for the seriousness of the moment.

Tony puts Kathleen down but continues to hold her arms down. "Actually Kathleen, it was the other way around. I cheated on Angela with you. And it never shoulda happened. I'm sorry you're hurtin' right now; really I am. But it's always been Angela. Always."

Kathleen doesn't respond but violently shrugs Tony off and storms out of my house, leaving the air around her unsettled and cold. I ward off a chill and turn to Tony. She's gone.

"One baggage down, one to go", Mother says. I glare at her.

"I don't want an audience, Mother!"

"So, married huh? When were you two going to let me in on that?"

"After we dumped our _excess baggage_ Mona!" Tony shakes his head at her.

Mother ignores Tony's sarcastic tone and grabs us both against her in a spontaneous hug. "Congratulations. It's been a long time coming. I couldn't be happier. The sooner the better, okay? This is one wedding I'm not going to miss!" she happily exclaims.

"Me either", Tony says. He kisses me and holds me tightly. I bask in his love, feeling the shards of my shattered heart being restored. I'm finally beginning to heal.

The End!


End file.
